Mountain of Dire you can't take me, i'm free

Feel free to consider this a continuation of the post in my joining application.
I like random encounters with territorial pack wolves and scuffles so anything goes. :)

As shadow swallowed him, the ragged loner breathed a quiet sigh of relief. His pelt, albeit imperfect, was dark enough in spots to mask him amongst the roots and trunks, and there was just enough light peppering to give the wolf a sun-dappled appearance, allowing him to blend from above with the forest floor. He felt safest and most secure in the depths of forests, the deep reaches of caves, or skulking along in the dark where nightmares were rumoured to hide. Mephisto didn't believe in nightmares, but self-preservation he did believe in, and slinking through the undergrowth was in his best interest in that regard.

He stuck to the treeline, only moving to climb higher once more when he was certain he had cleared the hidden puma's location on a plateau overhead. Breath billowed from parted jaws as he began the strenuous task of hoisting himself back toward the ridges of the mount, having abandoned his previous desire to conserve energy. The advantage of holding high ground outweighed the consequences of climbing to it just enough for the platinum male to justify it.

When he had reached a point almost level with where he'd been — another point where the mountain suddenly became an impassable cliffside, where great effort would be required to go higher — he stopped. Mephisto would not relax enough to sit back on his haunches, but he would at least allow himself a brief respite from the constant walking, even if it was only to stand still a moment. Darkness was descending quickly now, the last fingers of evening chased away into twilight, but still he failed to take in the beauty of Relic Lore; he thought only of himself, and how much longer it would be before he could find safe shelter for the night, if it could be had.

(This post was last modified: Jun 14, 2013, 09:50 PM by Mephisto.)

OMG. CHELSIE??? Like....BRAGI-CHELSIE??? UHMAGAHHHHUSBAND???? (-Grace waves and hopes you're the Chelsie I think you are!-)

Danger flirted with the wolves of Nomad's Pass on a daily basis. None of them were impervious to its beguiling, alluring ways no matter how well they thought they could ignore its call. Every evening it sang its culling song to them as the darkness brought limited visibility and in that time of evening when the eyes could adjust to neither daylight nor the dark of night, depth perception became a thing of myth and focus became a friend lost behind in a crowd. Sagacity was aware of this but she, like many others, felt that she was relatively safe from harm, so long as she did not run recklessly and avoided any other predators. This way of life had kept her secure and safe thus far, even having had to defend the pack from a cougar once. It led to an invincibility complex, something which Sagacity nurtured secretly, quietly, without showing it outwardly.

Now that she was a mother she took danger more seriously, of course. Not for her own sake but for the sake of her son who depended on her for everything. She became wary of danger and avoided passes along the mountain which she'd traversed before without a second thought. Too rocky, she thought. The rocks looked a bit loose- she could cut around. She was strong and nimble-footed but not foolish, and convinced herself that her physiology had changed since giving birth- though none in the pack seemed to have noticed. Her milk was beginning to dry up as Mercy began to depend on regurgitated meals but she still felt off-balance and thus avoided the more treacherous parts of the mountain.

While she was aware that she was beyond the borders, they were still close by and thus she still felt at home. In her mind, the entire mountain was to be guarded; if a stranger got this close, they'd be able to smell the pack, which should've been enough of a warning sign to some. She stiffened when she came to terrain which suddenly became sheer, when she caught the scent of a wolf who must have been further down the mountain. A male. The pack's relatively secret location would've been no secret to him, not where so many of them had passed this way up and down the mountain, so she went to investigate.

She was pleased to have the benefit of height above him, though it certainly didn't make him any easier to see. She could barely make him out and even then, it took a bit of time before she could pick out features or get a good idea of his shape. When she was close enough, her posture became more rigid, though as they were on neutral territory, she did not flaunt her rank, merely her strength and confidence. She was amused when she finally saw the colour of his pelt in the darkness and the markings on him- they could have been siblings. He had a catlike sinew about him, just as she was slim and otterlike. Even his eyes were only a few shades shy from the yellow of hers. She was still taken by the similarity of their appearance which brought on an unusual feeling of amusement which led her to voice her findings with a wry tone to her voice.

"It's like looking at a slightly less pretty reflection of myself," She said, not meaning to scald him with the words, but to jest. It was clear in her sarcasm that she truly didn't think of herself as being pretty, nor did she exhibit the smirk which might've insisted that she was a vain creature. Humbly, she nodded her head to him. "I'm Sage." She said, tone much more diplomatic and polite to show a glimpse of her better nature.

Avatars by Arla!

OOC: UM HI I've been poking around at your account trying to figure out if you were the same Jess or not but HI, Bragi squeals from neverland-in-my-head!

IC: The mountain was quiet in the way only a mountain could be; the babbling of brooks was silenced by the sheer walls surrounding them, the chittering of birds was confined to the forest below, and even the scrabbling claws of mice that dared venture so high were missing in the twilight. This was advantageous to the drifter; he would be aware of any venturing close, if only because he was on high alert and could hear them. When Sagacity found him, it was therefore not much of a surprise, for the sounds of her nails clicking on the stone heralded her approach. Nonetheless, Mephisto's nose was better than his ears, and his eyes better than his nose, but in the thin barrier between night and day, he could not adjust enough to see her until she was quite close.

She moved like a natural on the mountain's uneven surface, impressing even the loner as she veritably danced down it. She carried with her the poised composure of somebody who knew exactly what they were doing, but not only that: she knew exactly where she stood in relation to him. That prompted his own observation that she smelled like many wolves at once, and that, in fact, parts of the mountain smelled like many wolves had walked over them. The thought of a nearby pack made him very slightly nervous, and his lips parted in a little smile to unconsciously reveal it. The male watched her body stiffen, for a moment torn whether to respond in kind or not, but before he'd truly decided how to encounter this unfamiliar wolf and her at-ease encroachment of his personal space, which spanned miles, Sagacity spoke. A wolf speaking always prompted Mephisto to listen, but with at best half his attention; the other half was turned on the environment and surroundings, and this was plainly evident from his body language. He kept one dark ear tilted toward the Nomad's Pass second, and one turned back to survey the foothills behind him; for the briefest of instances, he wondered if she was the type to find him rude, but shrugged it off with scarcely a second thought.

She made a wry observation, but Mephisto did not comment in return. Mentally he noted she was right — they were one and the same, but she was slimmer, naturally prettier even if her tone suggested she was unconvinced of her own truth, cleaner, and smelled deliciously like a puppy. That last was enough to make him finally cave to her show of confidence; while Mephisto had a natural ego about him, particularly when he was around weaker beings, it wasn't enough to override his instinct, and certainly not enough for him to challenge a mother (or so he assumed, though she didn't carry the scent of birthing, merely that of puppy) so close to lands that stank of wolf feet passing by.

“Mephisto,” he replied in a tone that was far less engaging and far more bored than her own had been. The joke was lost on him, more or less; he took it as a serious comment, agreed with it, and let it pass on. As was his way, the male said nothing else; instead, he fixed his gaze on her and openly started at a point just slightly below her lips, with his body subtly curled downward in deference and head just beneath the curve of her throat. Perhaps it was an attempt to make her uncomfortable so she would leave him alone, or perhaps it was just that Mephisto was fairly bad at social interaction in any positive way with strange wolves. In any case, he had no words yet for this Sage woman, at least none that came to mind.

OOC: :D :D :D I'd intended to have Sage be some distant relative of Brace. She wouldn't really acknowledge it though, she doesn't even carry a surname. But I like to think she's still a Brace descendant. :) Also, love the use of the word 'STANK.' XD

She watched the stranger for all the subtle movements and changes in his features. He didn't seem to be one to convey each and every thought, but there were little telltale signs that told her different things about him, little triggers which made her assume certain things about him. His back was curved slightly and she felt more comfortable knowing that he preferred to be defensive rather than offensive. It meant, to her, that he wasn't willing to cause unnecessary trouble, which put her mind at ease. He was too close to the borders for her to feel relaxed about greeting a stranger who did not show any respect.

He offered his name but nothing else. Immediately, one of her ears flicked back at his tone and she regarded him with a slightly more keen gaze. Had he been drawn to the mountain with the hopes of joining the pack, she would've hoped that he'd speak with a bit more purpose. Instead he hardly seemed to care about the bit of humour she'd tried to use, leading her to believe that either he wasn't a social creature or he had absolutely no sense of humour. Not that they were all jokers on the mountain anyway, but they at least had personalities to speak of.

Nevertheless, she nodded her head by way of greeting. "What brings you to the mountain?" She asked, not in a flippant, small-talk sort of way, but in a tone which hinted that she suspected he had a reason. He'd be an idiot if he wasn't aware he was so close to a pack's borders, so what she was really asking was 'why have you come so close to my packlands,' even if the words weren't there.

Avatars by Arla!